


Cake

by indiefic, Tangofic



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-28
Updated: 2015-07-28
Packaged: 2018-04-11 19:12:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4448786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indiefic/pseuds/indiefic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tangofic/pseuds/Tangofic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>NC-17.  Set late Season 7, between "Grace" and "Fallout".  </p><p>O'NEILL: Teal'c and Daniel say Hi. They're planning a little bit of a shindig for when you're up and around. There's talk of cake.<br/>CARTER: Cake?<br/>O'NEILL: My idea.<br/>CARTER: Can't wait.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cake

Sam stared dubiously at the proffered refreshment being place on the colonel's coffee table. "Daniel, I thought we were having cake," she said pointedly.

"Hmm?" He looked at her all wide-eyed and guileless, the look he always got when he was up to something.

" _Cake_ , Daniel," she repeated. "That's not a cake."

He frowned and then smiled. "It's a … a … cake."

"It's a cake _pan_ ," she clarified. "Filled with Jell-O shots."

"Well," he admitted, "I already know you like Jell-O and since I've never actually seen you eat a piece of cake I thought maybe this would be better."

Sam stared at him in disbelief. "You thought a fifth of Stoli and a packet of blue Jell-O would be  _better_?"

"Hello cam …" Jack looked down at the pan full of Jell-O shots and frowned at Daniel "…pers," he finished, nonplussed. Taking a seat on the couch with Carter, he placed his own offering, an actual cake, Fresh™ from the bakery section of the local supermarket, on the coffee table.

"T," Jack yelled, "I thought you were supposed to keep an eye on Daniel."

Having finished removing his jacket, Teal'c walked the few steps down into the living room and inclined his head. "Indeed, O'Neill."

Waving toward the pan of shots, Jack said, "T, this doesn't count as keeping an eye on Daniel."

Cocking his head to the side, Teal'c frowned in confusion. "From my observations, O'Neill it is quite customary for Tau'ri celebrations to include the imbibing of alcoholic beverages."

"Not," he motioned between him and Carter, realized what he was doing and promptly stopped, " _our_  celebrations."

Teal'c's frown deepened. "On the contrary, O'Neill, when we are watching a Tau'ri sporting event, you and DanielJackson often partake of the beverage known as 'beer'."

"That's not," Jack broke off, half tempted to growl. "Not when it's all of us."

Teal'c cocked an eyebrow. "So it is MajorCarter's presence that makes the alcohol inappropriate," he speculated.

"No, that's not … Jesus." He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand.

"Jack."

Jack looked across at Daniel.

"Have a shot," he said.

Jack looked down at the blue quivering mass in the beaten cake pan. The thing looked like it came back with Daniel from Abydos after being trampled by one of those snot tossing Snuffleupaguses they used for camels. Grumbling under his breath, Jack scooped up a shot and tossed it back. He cleared his throat to keep from breathing fire and turned his head, grinning.

“You’re up, Carter,” he said, waving a hand over the treat.

“Oh no,” she said, looking suspiciously over the cake pan. “I had some of those at a college party and ended up on the table belly danc - uh…they don’t really agree with me, Sir.”

“Carter, take a shot,” Jack urged. “It’s your cake, for crying out loud.”

“Come on, Sam,” Daniel pleaded, taking a swig of his beer. “I made it for you.”

She looked to Teal’c for support but he was looking directly at the pan of Jell-O with obvious concern.

“Are you certain that it is digestible, DanielJackson? It appears to be an organic substance.”

“Nah,” Jack grunted. “It’s not alive, T. It just…uh…wiggles. It’s just horse’s hooves ground up with vodka. ”

“No, actually that’s a fairly common misconception. Contrary to popular thought, gelatin is not manufactured from horns or hooves. It’s an interesting idea but hooves do not contain the necessary collagen to create it. It’s actually manufactured through the soaking in alkalies-“

“Ack!” Jack blurted, holding a warning finger up to Carter, which he then pointed over at the pan. “Shot.”

“Yes sir,” she said, grinning. Grabbing one of the shot glasses between her thumb and middle finger, she tossed it back with all the subtlety of a barfly.

"I got hazed, just like everyone else," she offered with a smirk, slamming the shot glass down on the coffee table.

***

An hour or so later, Jack turned his head and looked at Sam. Both of them were slumped back against the couch cushions, only half paying attention to the TV. "Carter, you haven't touched your cake."

Meeting his gaze, she cocked an eyebrow and then looked at the coffee table strewn with empty shot glasses. "Sir, if I have much more of my  _cake_ , I’m going to be passed out on your bathroom floor."

He rolled his eyes and waved his hand dismissively. "Not the booze, Carter. The cake." More quietly, he added, "My cake."

Major Samantha Carter diligently fought the compulsion to find her commanding officer absolutely adorable. It was one of the few battles she lost so thoroughly. She tried to bite back her smile, but finally conceded defeat and beamed at him. "Thank you for the cake, sir," she said. "That was very thoughtful."

"You're avoiding the issue," he pressed.

Biting down on her bottom lip, she stared at the cake. She was starving and it looked so good. Shrugging she said, "I'm stuffed."

"You had a piece of pizza at dinner …" He held up his wrist to consult the time, but couldn't focus on the little numbers. He didn't know if it was because he was drunk or just because he was old. Either way, he didn't really want to examine that problem too closely. He dropped his hand. "… a long damn time ago."

"Sir," she said sitting up, "really. I'm full."

He grinned at her. "You want that cake," he needled.

She looked at him, grinning wryly and then laughed. "Okay," she admitted, flopping back into the cushions, "I want that cake."

"So have some cake, Carter," he said with more than a little exasperation.

"I can't," she replied with just as much exasperation.

“Why not?” he groaned, leaning drunkenly over much too closely to her. “Jesus Christ, Carter, you weigh a five…no, uh…uh…a buck. Look, there’s twenty-five year olds in the SGC that’ve been praying for an ass like yours since they were teenagers.”

“Sir?” she hiccupped as she slid over toward him on the couch. “How do you know what people pray about…about my ass?”

“Cause, it’s damn fine,” he sighed, sliding his hand over her thigh ever so slowly. “Damn. Fine.”

He scratched his head and looked over when he felt her breath on his neck and then his belly tightened as she nuzzled that warm space behind his ear. Something should be wrong with this. He knew it. Something was definitely not regulation about Carter’s nibbling teeth down the column of his throat, but he couldn’t remember just what that was.

“Cake,” he groaned, easing away and sliding the box across the table and managing to sweep a bunch of shots onto his floor in the process. He planted the cake half on his lap, half on hers and opened the box. “Yu-um,” he taunted, scooping icing not from the edge but right from the middle of the cake. He licked his finger clean, taunting her with a satisfied hum.

“Jack, you’re cheating,” she whimpered fascinated by the finger in his mouth. Taking the same finger, he dipped in again and offered it to her with a happy, drunken smile. “Try your cake, Carter.”

She grinned at him, oh so wickedly before licking her lips and slowly leaning forward to wrap her lips around his finger. He groaned as her mouth sealed around his digit, her tongue laving every bit of chocolate from his flesh. The suction was incredible and he could feel his groin tightening. He leaned towards her, closer, closer

"Hello!" Daniel bellowed unceremoniously.

Sam pulled back so fast she actually nipped his finger.

"Fuck, Carter," Jack cursed, shaking his wounded hand to alleviate the pain.

"Yeah, speaking of," Daniel quipped.

Carter's face flamed as she crossed her arms over her chest and then crossed her legs, leaning as far away from her CO as she could get. Jack slumped back on the couch and wiped his hand on his pant leg. He knew, even through his drunken haze, that her pretty mouth sucking ruthlessly on his finger was going to be the subject of many fantasies to come.

Daniel grinned, looking silently from Jack to Sam and back again before plopping down in the nearest chair and leaning forward to get another Jell-O shot. He wobbled on the edge of the overstuffed chair nearly unseating himself before he finally retrieved his prize and downed it.

“These were a fantastic idea,” Daniel sighed, tapped his shot glass on the arm of the chair. “Teal’c, you really oughta try one of these.”

“I do not partake of alcohol beverages and certainly not those that move of their own volition,” Teal’c said, not looking away from his video game.

“It’s kinda jiggly,” Daniel nodded with something akin to a giggle in his voice.

“Indeed,” Teal'c said, engrossed in the screen where he was winning the battle always. He had once stayed in front of O'Neill’s television for an entire weekend while engrossed in the X-Box. He was convinced that if he accepted defeat, he would no longer be able to hold his head high while serving with the Tau’ri. Jack and Daniel tried to explain the concept of “game” to him but he didn’t seem to grasp that the “reset” button was an option.

Jack looked at Daniel, disgusted with the archaeologist's inability to hold his liquor. Six years of drinking together and Daniel was still the cheapest date he'd ever seen. "I'm gonna get a band-aid," he said, carefully rising to his feet.

Jack knew after the lime-slicing-incident of New Years '01 that he didn't have any band-aids in the hall bathroom, so he made a beeline for the master bath. He fished out the box and closed the medicine cabinet, jumping when he saw her reflection behind his own in the mirror.

He swiveled. "Carter."

She smiled tightly. "I just wanted to make sure I didn’t hurt you," she said quietly.

"Oh," he said and then looked at his finger. She hadn't really hurt him, at least not in the grand scheme of things. He'd definitely had worse. This had hardly bled at all. He looked up at her and smiled. "Just being careful," he said. "Wouldn't want to uh … " He trailed off, completely losing his train of thought.

Of their own volition, his hands found her hips and pressed her back against the wall. She didn't protest. "You never got your cake," he said.

She smiled, her tongue lightly resting against her top lip. "I got my cake," she said.

Time seemed to warp for Colonel Jack O’Neill, because one moment her tongue was against her upper lip and the next, it was in his mouth. He groaned as she sucked lightly on his tongue, pulling him into her mouth, reminding him of their earlier mishap. Her hands roamed over his back and he buried his hands in her short, silky blonde hair, pressed her hard against the wall. He attempted to pull one of her legs around his thigh, only to be impeded by her long narrow skirt. He wasn’t quite sure why she always felt the need to dress so much like a girl when they were off base, but at the moment, he didn’t really care.

Grabbing handfuls of the skirt, he pulled it high on her thighs and proceeded to wrap her leg around him. Taking advantage of the new position, he insinuated himself between her thighs, making sure they were fitted together like two interconnecting puzzle pieces.

He deftly slid one hand under her shirt and cupped a lace-covered breast, sweeping his calloused thumb over her tightening nipple. She groaned into his mouth and tightened her leg around his hip, pulling him closer to where she needed him the most.

Drunkenly swaying against his 2IC, he pulled off her shirt and feasted his eyes on breasts he dreamed about thousands of times covered in provocative black lace. “Carter,” he groaned, pressed his face into her cleavage for a drunken moment. He slid his hands around her, already kissing along the black lace, and was ridiculously proud of how little time it took to get her free considering he was just a shot away from being drunk off his ass and hadn’t tried to get into a bra for much longer than he was willing to admit out loud.

Her breath hissed between her teeth as his mouth found her nipple. Her blunt fingernails dug into his scalp and her back arched, pressing her more tightly against him. She was tearing at his shirt and he obliged her by slipping out of the hindering material. And then.  _Oh fuck_. Flesh on flesh. He hadn't been in this position in too damn long and he'd dreamed about it with her for the last seven years.

"Jack," she whimpered pushing at his shoulders. The pushing would have annoyed him, but he quickly realized she was trying to guide him back into his bedroom, specifically to his bed, which was a fantastic idea.

She actually giggled as he toppled her back on the bed. She continued to laugh as he worked her skirt down her legs. He got as far as her knees before he came to a dead stop.

The overhead light wasn't on and she'd obviously shut his bedroom door when she followed him. But the bathroom light was still on and it provided just enough illumination. "Jesus Christ, Carter," he swore.

She gave him a seductive little smile. "You like?" she asked.

He swallowed thickly. Like? She wasn't wearing pantyhose. She was wearing stockings. Black sheer stockings with a matching black garter belt and what looked suspiciously like a thong. He slipped the rest of the offending garment from her body and sat back on his heels, eyeing her wolfishly. She was absolutely stunning. She looked like she just stepped off the cover of a damn magazine.

He growled as he lowered himself on top of her and kissed her for all he was worth. He pressed his groin against hers and nipped at her throat, all the while caressing those fantastic breasts.

“Like is not the word I’d use,” he said, his words muffled against her neck. She moaned in appreciation, throwing her head back and wrapping her long, long legs around his waist. “You’re gonna kill me, Carter.”

“Want you,” she panted, her words slurred and soaked in desire as she squirmed under him.

He didn’t need to be asked twice. He kissed along her body, simply amazed that this woman who slept on the ground as he did, fought snakeheads day in and day out and went through the same rigorous training he had, could manage to have such perfect, supple, silky skin. He wanted to taste every inch of it and he tried wholeheartedly as moved along her body, taking in mouthfuls of creamy flesh.

"Jack," she whined plaintively.

Score! He knew it was a thong. The hussy. He grinned evilly as he moved the material aside, fingers caressing her intimate flesh as his tongue teased around her areola.

Her hand found the waistband of his pants, tugging impatiently. He complied by shimmying out of his khakis as quickly as possible.

He wanted to spend more time (hours) exploring her body, but she was restless and demanding, shifting uneasily beneath his ministrations. She tugged at his shoulders, urging him to blanket her body with his own and he couldn't help but obey. He understood her impatience. He didn't dare wait long enough to sober up or he was going to remember why this was such a spectacularly bad idea.

Rather than battle with the stockings and garters, he simply pushed her panties aside and entered her – although, if he took an intoxicated moment to be honest with himself, the only thing sexier than sex with Carter was sex with Carter in that get up of hers. He buried himself to the hilt inside her and they both groaned simultaneously. She was so damned tight she was like a vise around him and those silk covered legs squeezing his hips made her tighter still.

He buried his face against her neck and took a shuddering breath. She was somehow more beautiful and more desirable than his wildest fantasies had ever conjured up. Slowly but firmly, he began moving inside her, and ever the consummate overachiever, she met him thrust for thrust with energetic enthusiasm.

"Oh, god," he groaned. He wasn't going to last long and he knew it. Thankfully, he was too far gone to worry about that. It was sensory overload, a warm willing body after he'd been celibate for far too long, made all the hotter by the fact that it wasn't just someone, it was her; and not just her, but her in stockings and a garter belt, writhing in his bed and not lost somewhere halfway across the galaxy. Her here. Her with him. Her nails biting into his back while she moaned his name. Cursing, he pulled out of her at the last second, spilling himself on the sheets.

He rested his head against her chest for a moment, all too aware of her heaving breath and corded muscles. She made a plaintive sound and he kissed her hard before shoving the soiled sheet out of the way and licking and nipping his way down her body. His tongue lapped at her clit while two of his fingers curved inside her tight passage. One of her hands fisted in his hair and her back arched, but he took his time, refusing to be rushed. She however had other plans and two minutes later, she exploded in ecstasy screaming his name.

Thankfully enough in the other room, Daniel was passed out in the same chair they left him in and Teal’c was safely in front of his video game. Jack kissed his way up her body and kissed her softly and with all the love that seven years of waiting had pent up. She was here. With him. Not lost. Not dead. Here. He sighed in contentment, collapsing onto his side facing her and pulling her against him.

"We just screwed up," she said.

The sound was muffled, but he could clearly hear the uncertainty and even fear in her voice. Strange that he didn't feel the same. He shrugged, pulling her even closer, groping for one of the scattered blankets and wrapping it around their bodies. "Maybe," he conceded.

She looked up at him, her expression incredulous even in the dim light. "Maybe?" she choked. "Sir … Jack we just crossed that uncrossable line. Daniel and Teal'c both have to know what happened."

He looked at her, expression firm. "I'm not going to say I'm sorry," he said. "Because I'm not." His gaze broke away from hers and he sighed again, rolling onto his back and looking up at the ceiling. "Carter, when you were gone I just … " He took a deep breath and then another. Turning his head, he looked at her again. "I'm not sorry."

“Me either,” she said softly.

Releasing a sigh of relief, he pulled her into his arms again. “We’ll deal with everything else tomorrow,” he murmured into her hair, already falling asleep.

“Tomorrow,” she murmured in agreement before releasing a tiny snore, nestled against Jack’s chest.

He looked down at her nestled against his chest and then closed his eyes…and smiled.

THE END


End file.
